


Boys Can Be Really Stupid

by Nicnac



Series: The Trials and Tribulations of an Amnesiac Lex [12]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor communication doesn’t always kill; sometimes it just keeps you from getting laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Can Be Really Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this turned into soft-core porn. *pokes fic with a stick* Yeah, I really don't know what happened (but I blame Lex!) Umm... Merry Christmas?

Clark, Lex concluded, was trying to drive him crazy. And there was a reasonably good chance it was working.

It had been two weeks since Clark had kissed him, and he was acting completely normal. In fact, had Clark not mentioned the next night that the offer to talk to Jor-El about Lex’s memories was an open one, Lex would have assumed the whole thing had been an extremely vivid epiphany-inducing dream, never mind that Lex distinctly did not remember falling asleep or, more tellingly, waking up on the day in question. But, since the incident definitively _had_ happened, Lex could only conclude that Clark was feeling a little mixed up about it, and was trying to act as normal as possible while he sorted his own head out. Because, while Lex had no doubts that Clark had fully intended to kiss him in the moment, the moment in question had been after a fairly emotional conversation and at a time at which both of them were usually asleep. It was possible that in the light of morning Clark had ended up more than a little confused about how he felt – especially since all his references to past romantic and sexual exploits had been distinctly female – and Lex was willing to wait while he sorted it out.

Well, _in theory,_ Lex was willing to wait. _In practice_ , patience, particularly in situations where he couldn’t really _do_ anything, had never been Lex’s strong suit.  After a week, he started to get impatient and his behavior around Clark began oscillating between normal, irritated, and excessively flirtatious. None of which could possibly be helping with Clark confusion, but the more time that passed, the less gracious Lex was inclined to be about the whole matter.  

So at the two week mark, Lex decided that he had had it with waiting for Clark to figure it out by himself. Luckily, that Friday Conner was due to be out of the house – he was planning to spend the night with his other teen hero friends (Lex didn’t approve of a group a teenagers crime-fighting at all, much less without adult supervision, but he did think the group was a good place for Conner to socialize with peers with similar interests) – which was bound to come in handy no matter what way it worked out. Either Clark would tell Lex that he didn’t feel _that way_ about him, resulting in Lex locking himself up in his office and drowning his sorrows, which Conner didn’t need to be exposed to, or Clark would declare his actions to be exactly what they implied, resulting in… well Lex had a lot of plans for that eventuality, none of which Conner needed to be aware of except in very, very, very, very broad and vague generalities.

After Lex got home from work that day, he immediately sought out Clark. Finding the main rooms of the penthouse to be completely empty – it was Gretchen’s day off, another good reason to do this today – Lex went back to check Clark’s bedroom. He gave a perfunctory knock on the door and, finding it unlocked, walked in without waiting for an answer.

Much, much, _much_ later Lex would piece together what happened. Generally when Clark got home from work in the evenings, usually an hour or so before Lex did, the first thing he did was to change out of his suits into more casual clothing that didn’t involve wearing two complete layers, including a cape and two pairs of shoes (Lex still didn’t understand how that one worked). Today, however, Clark must have stayed late at work for some reason and gotten home not long before Lex. The result was Lex walking in on this: Clark, almost naked save for a pair of thin cotton boxer shorts, holding a t-shirt in front of his chest as though he were about to put it on.

“Lex!” Clark squeaked, dropping the shirt and just… wow.

It was at this point that Lex lost track of most coherent thought, leaving him only with fragments such as _Clark, skin, good, touch_. Lex found himself stalking across the room toward Clark who, without really seeming to realize what he was doing, started backing up. A distant part of Lex’s brain noted that, yes, he had completely snapped, but it was mostly preoccupied by the way Clark had run up against a wall and had nowhere else to go.

Lex captured Clark’s lips in a scorching kiss, a guiding hand placed on Clark’s cheek while the other buried into his hair – _God_ that fucking hair. Clark was frozen for the briefest of seconds before moaning into the kiss, and wrapping his arms around Lex in order to force them as close together as possible. There was something delightfully sinful about the press of a fully-clothed body against a practically undressed one, though, going from the way one of Clark’s hands had abandoned its grip on Lex’s ass to scramble frantically at Lex’s tucked shirt, it was possible that Clark didn’t entirely agree with that sentiment. Of course, once Clark actually managed to get his hand inside the shirt to stroke against the bare skin of Lex’s back, Lex had to admit this approach had its merits too.

It was also possible that Lex had had a completely different and slightly more coherent plan as to how he was going to handle this situation before his accidental exposure to nearly naked Clark; in fact he was sure of it. But then, with results like these, which involved Clark nipping at his lower lip and kissing him like there was no way he could ever get enough, who was Lex to complain?

When they finally pulled back, they were both panting lightly (Ha! Lex had made Superman pant, and Clark didn’t even _need_ to breathe) and Lex dropped his forehead on Clark shoulder. Despite the fact they were no longer making out like horny teenagers, Clark seemed to have no intention of moving his hands anytime soon, but that was probably fair. Lex’s right hand had slid around from Clark’s cheek to the back of his neck, but that was only because his hand’s previous position would make for an incredibly awkward way to talk to someone, and Lex was fairly certain it would take a feat of super-strength to get his other hand out of Clark’s hair.

“You,” Lex said after a few seconds, “have been driving me crazy.” Admittedly, it wasn’t a very far drive, but it was the principle of the thing.

“ _I’ve_ been driving _you_ crazy?” Clark repeated incredulously. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for two weeks.”

Lex suppressed the urge to groan. That couldn’t possibly be what happened right? They couldn’t have been being that stupid. Experimentally, Lex picked up his head to look Clark in the eye and said, “But I was waiting for you to make I move.”

“I already did!” Clark protested. So in other words, yes that is what happened, and yes, they were that stupid. “I told you I loved you” – actually Clark had said “ _we_ love you” implying that Clark and Conner shared a familial bond with Lex, something that Lex was already reasonably aware of and that had no bearing on any romantic feelings Clark might have for him, so clearly that one couldn’t be held against Lex – “and then I kissed you.”

“How do you know that I didn’t think the kiss was just a bizarre exceedingly affection comfort gesture?” Lex pointed out.

Clark looked at him assessingly for a few seconds before shaking his head and asserting, “That’s not what you thought.”

“True,” Lex agreed “but I _could_ have thought that.” The kiss had been very chaste after all. Clearly, Clark needed to take a few pages out of Lex’s book as how to make a kiss into a declaration. “Actually, since you weren’t acting any differently than normal the next day I just assumed that your own actions had taken you by surprise. I was trying to give you time to sort out what you were feeling.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” Clark said very seriously. Then, in a lighter tone, he continued, “I was just _acting_ normal because I didn’t want to make things weird. I figured if you didn’t say anything then we could just keep going on like we have been, but if you did something to show you were interested then we could…” he glanced down to where their bodies were still more or less plastered up against each other, “well, do this mostly.”

Lex regarded Clark with narrowed eyes. “ _’If_ I showed I was interested?’ I’ve been flirting with you all week! Even Conner noticed.” At least Lex assumed that’s what all the anticipatory doe-eyed looks that Conner had been directing at the two of them this past week had been about.

“Yeah, when you weren’t snapping my head off over nothing,” Clark countered, which was... fair, probably. “Besides Lex, you flirt with everyone; it doesn’t mean anything necessarily. Heck, you flirted with me back when I was just a kid and I know you weren’t interested back then.”

Somehow Lex managed not to scoff at that bit of ridiculousness. He had _seen_ pictures of Clark from when he was younger, and, certain laws aside, there’s no way Lex wouldn’t have jumped if the opportunity had presented itself back then. Of course, Clark likely wouldn’t believe Lex if he just told him that, not when Lex didn’t have any memories or proof of it – oh! That could work.

“Clark,” Lex said in a low and silky voice. “Have I ever told you about the first time, that I remember that is, I masturbated while thinking about you?”

“No, you haven’t,” Clark said, and Lex was reasonably impressed with how well he regulated his tone and posture. Nothing, however, could hide the twitch of interest in his boxers, not when they were as close together as they were.

This was going to be fun.

“It was a long while ago,” Lex told him conversationally. “A couple of months before I replaced all your clothes.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “But you – you didn’t know me back then. And you didn’t even _like_ me.”

Clark, of course, didn’t believe in sex without feelings being involved; it was sweet actually. Lex smiled and let his right hand trace across the top of Clark’s shoulder and down the line of his arm. “You’re very attractive. And once you had found your way into my head it was pretty hard to get you back out again.”

Lex paused for a moment considering. He could just get straight to the point, but the hard length pressed up against him convinced Lex there was a better option. “Close your eyes,” Lex said. Clark did so immediately without protest and Lex couldn’t help a smug sense a satisfaction at that. He leaned forward and started speaking, breathing the words across Clark’s ear. “I was imagining myself, walking into the Daily Planet; keeping an eye on my investments, you know.”

“But you sold the Planet,” Clark objected, opening his eyes.

Lex yanked on his hair, forcing Clark to look right at him. “This is my fantasy; no backseat driving.” Lex was trying to make a point here, dammit.

“Okay,” Clark said nodding, and his pupils were – fuck – huge. Lex mad a mental note to experiment more with the hair pulling thing, soon. He waited, watching Clark, until the other man caught on and closed his eyes again.

“Like I was saying,” Lex continued, “I walk into the Planet and I see you. I come over and tell you I need to talk to you in private. You agree and we go to-“

“-the copy room,” Clark interrupted. “Hardly anyone ever goes in there and the door locks.”

Strictly speaking, Clark was doing what Lex had _just_ told him not to, but since he was trying to help this time – not to mention the copy room would work just as well as Lex’s old private office in the building for the rest of what happened – Lex decided to let it go.

“When we get there I close the door and tell you that we need to talk about your office attire. Because right now you’re wearing a pair of jeans, old faded jeans, and a red plaid shirt. You stammer out an apology and explanation that I’m not really listening to. When you finally stutter to a stop, I tell you that we could pretend that this never happened, on one condition. You’re suspicious, but you ask what it is. I put my hands on your shoulders and push you down.” Lex let his hand, currently resting on Clark’s left shoulder, trail down Clark’s chest in a subtle mimicry of the action. Once there, Lex couldn’t stop himself from exploring, his fingers tracing the edges of Clark muscles and playing with his nipples. It didn’t exactly fit in with the scenario Lex was weaving, but then neither did Clark’s hand gently kneading his ass, and Lex wasn’t going to tell him to stop anytime soon… or possibly ever.

“You’re down on your knees, but when you look up at me you’re angry. This is back when you didn’t like me, remember,” Lex explained.

“I didn’t –”Clark started to say and Lex hit him lightly.

“Don’t lie. I saw those looks you used to give me; you didn’t even consider the possibility that I wasn’t completely evil until about half a year after I lost my memories.” Lex retorted. “And stop interrupting.” He punctuated his command with a quick squeeze to Clark’s crouch to ensure obedience – or at least incoherence.

“Now, you, on the ground, look at me and say something about sexual harassment and how you shouldn’t be surprised. So I just shrug and say you don’t have to if you don’t want to and turn to leave.” Clark actually let out a whimper of loss at that, and Lex felt extremely pleased with himself. “But before I can take more than a step you grab my arm and pull me in close. You rest your head against my thigh and breathe in, and I’m achingly hard for you.” The last really could have been a part of the story or a statement of fact; at some point Lex and Clark had started grinding against each other and… well, suffice to say if Lex wanted to avoid awkward stains on his dry cleaning he probably should wrap things up here quick. “I go to undo my pants, but you bat my hands away and do it yourself. Then you take my cock in your hands and swallow me down. Just the image of those pretty lips wrapped around my cock and I came, _hard_.” Lex bit down on the lobe of Clark’s ear and suddenly Clark cried out and stiffened against him. Lex, with a self-satisfied grin, petted Clark’s hair and gentled him through the aftershocks.

A minute or so later, when Lex thought Clark might actually be aware of his surroundings, he continued. “And then I felt terrible.”

That caught Clark’s attention. “Wait what?”

“I said,” Lex repeated “that after jacking off while picturing you I felt like a horrible pedophile.”

He sat back and watched as realization of what Lex was implying slowly dawned in Clark’s eyes. “Oh,” Clark said, looking as though Lex had just revealed on of the great secrets of the universe, not admitted to perving on him when Clark was underage.

Lex smirked. “I think it’s pretty safe to say that I wanted to get into your fifteen year old pants,” Lex said, emphasizing the statement by sliding his hands inside Clark’s boxers and coping a feel.

“Lex,” said Clark, low and desperate and throaty and – fuck was he getting hard again already? God bless super powered alien refractory periods. “How do you feel about my twenty-six year old pants?”

“Why Clark,” Lex said, leaning in close enough that, while they weren’t actually kissing, Lex’s lips brushed against Clarks with every word. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
